Knowing the trees have something to say,

beyond the scattering of mumbling leaves,

I am standing ready, for an earthly embrace,

sure of my birthing, from dust to dust.

Oh touch and heal, of numbness gone and heard

lay me down beneath the weight of heavy thunder

caress my skin with the pounding of rain, just storm

and let the tide pull me under and under.

I’ve got too many, the masks to hide

too much the scars, so ugly and worn

ease their way into humility, the proud soul denies it

until the wind is moving against the old wounds

and freedom there finds it.